Understanding Testosterone
by LionsLamb
Summary: Written for Support Stacie Auction. Bella wants to understand men's minds and the men of Forks don't provide any help. It takes Edward and his sexy talk to help Bella understand just what dirty things Edward thinks. AU/AH


Boys: I don't get them.

Sure, I understand that boys and men have penises and testicles and prostates and hairy chests and no boobs, but I don't understand how they work, how they think, how their components work together to create a male specimen.

I knew how their genitals worked during sex and I knew how what pleasure they could bring to women (and I took advantage of that, too) but I didn't understand what it was about women that attracted them. Freud, Jung and other psychologists didn't help.

So I asked my dad:

"Ch-Dad, how do boys work?"

Charlie choked on his beer. "Bells, what do you mean – 'work'? If you want the sex talk you can ask your mother, o-o-or Carlisle!"

My befuddled and embarrassed father didn't really understand what I was asking. Charlie had sex on the brain, all the time.

As a father to a nineteen-year-old girl, who caught his baby girl making out with her best friend's brother and then lip-locked with her best friend's sister, it was understandable how nervous Charlie became around these sexual things. I had been dating Emmett at the time, but both Alice and I were both curious – we wanted to know whether kissing girls was any different to kissing boys.

It wasn't, except that Alice's lips did, funnily enough, Katy Perry, taste like cherry Chap Stick.

"Never mind, dad… I'm not curious about that kind of thing."

I went upstairs and returned to googling "how men work". It wasn't very helpful; all I saw were pages and pages of diagrams of the phallus, some smaller than others. Then a porn website – no questions there – and then a feminist forum chastising and criticizing men for the faults that plague every single specimen, apparently.

Google had failed me, for the first time. I returned downstairs after sending a quick text to Alice and Edward warning them that I was coming over – a trip to the Cullens' was be necessary.

My curiosity was growing by the minute – was Charlie's automatic assumption that sex was on my mind a clue about the way men thought – about sex? I didn't know. I was going to find out.

The truck revved and sputtered as it climbed the long hill up to the Cullen's mansion. All of these thoughts about sex were really making me a little horny; I rubbed my legs together and tried not to enjoy the vibrations of the engine too much – orgasms in motion don't always end well, as Emmett, Rosalie's mouth the Cullen's now totaled jeep found out.

My hormones were starting to rush and I tossed my hair and ran my fingers through it, trailing lightly down my throat and stretching my neck – I needed to snap out of this, otherwise I'd just want to jump Edward's bones more than I usually do.

I pulled up to the house and pulled the emergency brake – just in case – and ran through the rain, mud spattering on my jeans and soaking into my sneakers. The doorbell rang and I stood there, my hair wet and my t-shirt sopping, feeling very bedraggled and not sexy anymore, at all.

Edward opened the door, and I realized that my effort to de-sexify and get rid of the sexual tension building in the car were futile – my friend's casual sexiness, low-key appeal and blatant good looks were too much for me to handle.

So I acted as I usually did – tomboyish and aloof.

"Hai there, kiddo… Is Emmett in?"

Edward seemed surprised that I hadn't come over to chill with him. I was fully aware that I could ask my gorgeous friend to explain to me the inner workings of the male mind, but I would become awkward if he started to talk about sex.

Edward and I had a strange relationship; we seemed made for each other: we like the same movies, we enjoy the same music, we both hate bowling, we both love Voxtrot and think that people who call themselves 'Indie' are lame. We agree that rain is sometimes more fun than sun and the night is far superior to the day. Everything between us could work in a romantic way – God knows I was panting for his body.

The only problem was that my lust for his boy bits wasn't reciprocated.

Edward Cullen thought of me as his friend, the tomboy girl with no hips or sex appeal.

I was a pretty great friend to him, though. I managed to keep a straight face whilst he recounted his sexual exploits with the head cheerleader, Tanya Gould, when I really just wanted to kiss him senseless for being so silly because she's a manipulative bitch and hates everyone who isn't over five foot ten and blonde and he's worth so much more than that.

Edward wasn't a pussy, as he constantly reminded me. He can very easily turn on the 'dick factor' when needed; he plays hetero sports and loves girly parts. He loves being given head and doggy-style sex more than anything else in the world and has an unfounded hatred of condoms.

But the one thing that distinguishes Edward from all other guys is that he can be friends with a girl. He's friends with me, unfortunately.

That was the main reason why I couldn't ask him how men's minds work – he's not a typical man. I needed a testosterone filled beast that wanted to go caveman on a girl's as and kill mammoths to eat. Edward wasn't like that. He's way too noble and sweet and sensitive and gentlemanly. Esme actually thought he was gay until he brought home the ultimate teenage fantasy - Tanya. Tall, long-legged, blonde, boobed, lipped and assed. And a bitch.

Edward's speech brought be back to reality, and out of my hatred of Tanya Gould.

"Yeah, he's in the TV room" Edward replied with a confused look on his face. I dragged my eyes away from his muscled forearms and snug t-shirt.

"Thanks, buckaroo."

And I walked straight past him and into the family room, ignoring the plaintive calls from my ovaries to mate repeatedly with him.

"Hey, Em," I called, "how's it hangin'?"

"Yo Bell-izzle," Emmett gave me a high five, "It's hanging high and proud and ready, like always."

"Oh haha. Hey, I have a question." I chewed my lip, waiting for the teasing.

"No, I won't sleep with you. No, I won't ask Edward to sleep with you. No, I won't ask Carlisle to sleep with you.

"And no, Alice isn't available for some kissy-time."

Emmett flashed me a cheeky grin.

I rolled my eyes – this is the reply that Emmett gave every time I asked him anything.

"It's about men, not sex this time."

Emmett watched me, his green eyes (so similar to Edward's) scrutinizing my face. He cracked his knuckles – overprotective Emmett would pummel any guy I wanted. That's why we broke up – Jacob Black got a black eye, and lip, and dick.

"How do they, I mean men, or boys, or whatever, work?" I asked hesitantly.

Emmett looked at me for a second and then burst out into riotous laughter.

I sat on the couch, twiddling my thumbs, feeling a little disgruntled and embarrassed.

"Oh, you're serious, Bells!" Emmett muted the television and stared at the coffee table, obviously in deep thought.

"How we think, or what?"

I nodded, eager for his answer. Emmett could be philosophical at the best of times, but his answers were always useful, albeit often given in a silly way.

"Well, _I_ think about sex most of the time."

I leant forward on my seat in anticipation – hopefully this would be interesting.

"I mean, I just see boobies and – bam! – my brain is filled with fantasies and I got a stiff dick in my pants."

What? That's it? That is Emmett's deep thought about the way that his mind works? Boobies? That's all that men think about? Men – who've been ruling the world since forever – are concentrated predominantly on _boobs_?

Wow. That's depressing.

I was vaguely aware of Edward sidling into the living room and chose to ignore his presence – it was very likely that he would just laugh at my curiosity. But my body still reacted to him, especially his gaze, which I could feel intensely on my back and my hair.

A shiver ran up my spine, and the thin hairs on the back of my neck stood up straight. My palms became sweaty, and I shifted in my place – I could imagine Edward's face perfectly. He would be leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, and one foot resting on the other. His biceps would be bulging slightly against his shirtsleeves, and his jeans would cling beautifully to his ass. I danced on my spot a little bit and pretended that my frustration was because of Emmett's answer, not because of the pent up sexual energy coursing through my veins. Fantasies flashed through my mind: of Edward's bare, muscled back writhing and undulating beneath my sweaty body; of his thigh between mine, pressing against my most sensitive part and making my gasp; our moans together, his grunts and my cries as we come.

But love sacks? Really?

"Uhh, thanks, Emmett – boobies? Seriously? How old are you, six?" my voice wavered slightly as I struggled to hold in the overwhelming emotion.

"Bella, you should know that Emmett matured until the age of eleven and has been regressing ever since," Edward came up behind me and held his hands against my upper arms. I immediately broke out into goosebumps.

"I have to find Carlisle!" I gulped and escaped Edward's grasp by sprinting up the stairs up to the Cullen patriarch's office.

My knock echoed around the hallway and Carlisle's deep, English brogue rang out with a sinister "come in."

My question suddenly seemed very stupid.

The door handle creaked and the door swung open with a creepy squeak. I snuck around the heavy oak and saw Carlisle, his twinkling blue eyes peering over his chic glasses with a slight smile coloring his handsome face and my worries vanished. This was Carlisle, for goodness' sake! He had bathed me with Edward when I was still in diapers and was one of the least judgmental people, ever.

"Hello, Bella. How are you?" he asked; he voice seemed much less sinister without the echo around the marble hallway– the room was lined with a huge number of books.

"Fine, thanks… but I have a bit of a weird question," I started, shuffling my feet and twiddling my thumbs.

And then it started again – that feeling that I was being watched, by Edward in particular. This was becoming ridiculous; I could fucking feel my nipples hardening beneath the thin cotton of my bra and the wetness seeping slowly into my underwear.

"Bella, are you quite all right? You looked flushed and sweaty…" Carlisle got up from his seat behind the imposing desk and walked over to me, cupping my chin and checking my temperature with the back of his hand.

"Hmm, you don't seem to have a fever…" His eyes flickered quickly over my body in a way that only a doctor's could, and then his eyes widened in apparent realization.

Fuckity fuckity shit. The 'thin cotton' of my bra, wasn't actually my bra at all – it was my thin t-shirt, which meant that I was totally head lighting my ex-boyfriend's father, who realized that my raised temperature and blush was because I was a bitch in heat, as horny as a horndog on fucking horn pills.

I had to restrain the urge to hold my hands out and do the awkward turtle.

I giggled, my face flaming red, this time not just because my clit was fucking throbbing in my pants.

Carlisle cleared his throat and backed away a little too slowly, protecting himself behind his large desk from the hormone-ridden teenage girl in front of him, "your question, Bella?" he asked.

"Oh yeah, I was just wondering how men, well, worked…"

Daddy Carlisle studied my face for a minute, his eyes screwed up a little in consideration.

"Bella, if you need information about sexual matters, I can put you in touch with a nurse or doctor; I also have several books on the subject…"

"No, no," I panted in laughter, "I meant, how men's minds work."

Carlisle's brow furrowed and he took of his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose – a habit I immediately recognized in Edward.

"Hmm, an interesting question, Bella. But I'm afraid that I'm going to have to give you the answer of a scientist and of a doctor. Men's minds work in a way that is very similar to women in that they follow the two main instincts instilled in every organism on this planet: to stay alive and reproduce. I hope that answers your question, though I somehow don't think that's the answer you're looking for.

"Perhaps Edward can answer it better, he's apparently dying too – he's been jiggling his leg ever since he came in here. I've got to go, anyway. Emmett needs to be dropped off at the mechanics and I am meeting Esme at the hospital for lunch."

"Uh, I will. Thanks, Carlisle…" I spoke slowly and stupidly, trying to decipher what Carlisle's sophisticated Oxford University garble was saying in Bella-speak.

Carlisle walked out, briefcase in hand, leaving me, unspeakably horny and awkward, with Edward, silent, striking and sexy.

And then I felt Edward behind me again; his hands clasped exactly where they had been before.

"Why didn't you ask me this question?" he spoke huskily, his warm breath blowing into my hair and ear, sending a tingle down my spine right into my clit.

"You're not masculine enough – you're too sensitive," I snapped back, letting my nerves get the better of me.

Edward's warmth was suddenly lacking behind me, even though his mouth was right next to my ear.

"I can make you see just how _masculine_ I can be." His tone was laced with innuendo and I gulped – was he serious?

Aloof and tomboy Bella returned.

"Okay, show me," I laughed whilst grabbing his hand and leading him into his bedroom, typical teenage boy messy, with random clothes and CDs strewn everywhere.

I stood in the middle of the mess and crossed my arms, cocking my hip with a skeptical expression on my face.

My sarcasm was hiding the fear and nervousness that I felt – did he mean the innuendo? Was it I? Had my throbbing clit and sexual frustration become too much for my mind to take?

Edward circled me slowly, his hands brushing random areas of bare skin.

"To answer your question, Bella, men's minds are driven by sex: by skin and by breasts, by silhouettes and by curves, by mouths and by hair. Anything that could be construed as a symbol for sex, or mutated into a sexual image will run through a man's mind."

I gulped again. Edward's hands were freezing cold, yet left a trail of fire behind them. My goosebumps were more prominent and I shuddered. This was the first time that I was letting Edward see the strong emotions I held for him. This was the first time that I was allowing myself to let those strong emotions overcome me. This was the first time that I felt that I could be myself in front of Edward, and not act like the aloof, jokey tomboy that I had built up as my real personality these past years.

My body shook with the energy coursing through my veins. Edward continued to circle me.

"Men start with the images of sex, of an attractive woman with tits and an ass and a sweet wet pussy. That's what we see first, a woman that we want to bend over and fuck."

I squeezed my palms together and released them – he better fucking start something too; each word that was spat out of his mouth was dirty and raw and I wanted his mouth to work on something else.

"And then we concentrate on each part of the woman's body and create a fantasy around that part: tits that we want to stick our dick between and fuck and come over and suck and bite; an ass that we want to smack and see taking in our rock hard cocks as we bend them over; a pussy that we want to fuck and lick and sick and bite and watch tremor because of the effect that we have over it."

Edward's voice was harsh and intense and jolted my whole body. I was breathing deeply, trying in vain to keep my body under control. It was impossible, though. I gravitated towards him. Every fiber of my being cried out for my brain to make a command to move towards him.

But Edward unhinged was fascinating. He enraptured me. I had always seen the smooth, sarcastic Edward. He was magnificent when he was angry and turned on and passionate.

Now his tone changed, however, to become softer and more hushed. His language was still dirty, but there was a tangible tenderness lying beneath, echoed in his words.

"But then, a more sensitive side is revealed. Those initial animalistic tendencies are softened and replaced by more tender images. Those titty-fuck breasts are to lie on and cuddle with; that ass is to hold and squeeze at the supermarket queue to make you squeal; that pussy is something to venerated and watched and coerced into climax again and again because you want to make her happy."

And then he stopped surveying my body hungrily. He looked plaintively with teary eyes at me, straight into me, so honestly and so openly that it pushed all of the air out of my lungs.

"That's where I am with you, Bella. I want to love you. I want to kiss your breasts and snuggle with you; I want to hold your ass secretly while we're queuing for movies; I want to love you, love you, love you…"

With each sentence he left a tender kiss along my neck.

"I love you," he whispered into my ear.

I leapt at him. I gave into my body and jumped at him and held his ridiculous hair in my hands and tugged his face down to mine and kissed him and as soon as our lips touched it unleashed something in both of us, something powerful and unknown and strong and all-consuming. A fire was alit at the place where our open mouths touched, a fire, which spread throughout my body, warming my very fingers and toes.

His hands splayed over my back, tugging me closer to his lean torso, his long fingers hitching up the fabric of my t-shirt so that my bare skin burned underneath his fingertips. I grabbed at his head and squished his cheeks together, bringing his face even closer to mine.

Our kisses were hot, frantic, staccatoed with soft moans and sighs and grunts of frustration that we couldn't get closer together, we could never be close enough.

We lost balance and fell onto the bed, bouncing slightly – an event that always made me laugh during sex – and I smiled against his lips, making our teeth clash together. His dry palms cupped my face and I felt revered, worshiped and wonderful.

Clothes were thrown off, each inch of bare skin uncovered kissed and licked and bitten. The silence of the empty house was punctuated by our groans of please as bare skin touched bare skin, our sweat mingled.

Edward groaned with pleasure as I twisted out of my bra and his hands were boiling hot as they felt and pulled and experimented with the soft flesh of my breasts. His fingers deftly worked my nipples, plucking and twisting and I cried out at the sharpness of the pain that jolted the building tension in my lower half.

We separated our mouths as I pulled his t-shirt over his head, ruffling his hair. I watched in awe at the ripple of his muscles and at the strength he possessed in his shoulders and back. Our jeans were already off, discarded and added to the piles of clothing littered around Edward's room. I wiggled out of my underwear, helped by Edward and watched with satisfaction as he saw me, recently waxed and trimmed, glistening and wet.

He let out a guttural moan of "oh, Bella!" before he spread my legs and put his delicious mouth on me. He was careful not to aim straight for my clit – if he had, I was sure that I would have come straight away – instead he played and lapped at the sensitive skin around that area. Waves and waves of pleasure rolled over me, my hands tangling in my knotted hair as I tried to last as long as possible. He pushed his fingers slowly into me and I automatically clenched around him, astounded by the confidence in his touch and the dexterity and reach of his fingertips, which curled and hit that elusive spot right up inside of me.

Edward then tongued my clit.

The throbbing down there had multiplied and spread so that there was a continuous pounding in my ears. My legs shook around his head and I briefly took a snapshot of the contrast of my creamy thighs and his unusual copper hair as an image that I would replay again.

My knees quivered and I let out a long moan that came right from inside my belly – a moan that released that pent up energy and frustration that had been built up and amplified every time I saw him. my back arched off of the bed, my head thrashing around everywhere. It was overwhelming. I had never experienced such an intense orgasm, nor such a feeling of cathartic release. I felt lighter, empty, totally exposed and vulnerable.

I was, however, not satiated and still ready for more.

Edward smiled beatifically up at me, a crooked grin turning his mouth in a delicious way. I leant down and kissed him warmly, encouraging him to open his mouth so that I could taste myself on him and his hot, slippery tongue.

We shifted so that Edward was on his back and I was sprawled against him, my breasts pressed against his chest and my knee by his erection.

I wanted a taste. After a make-out session, which only served to turn me on again, I moved away from him slightly, biting and licking a path down to his boxers. I straddled Edward so that my ass was in his face, my pussy wet and spread for him to watch.

His boxers came off easily and a grin spread across my face: Edward had a perfect dick. It was long and pink and hard and straight and unblemished and it looked so fucking good that I stuck my tongue out and encircled the head, groaning at the saltiness. Edward's strangled moan from behind me suggested that he was enjoying it more than I was.

I licked my lips and plunged down again, angling my jaw so that as much of his cock could fit in my mouth as possible. I breathed through my nose and relaxed my jaw, ensuring that my tongue remained moist and pliable against his stiff flesh. That familiar satisfaction returned as I felt the head of his cock hit the back of my throat, my lips hitting the soft, curly hairs at the base.

"Fuck, Bella…" Edward grunted, playing with and squeezing my ass cheeks.

I pulled up and inseted just the tip into my mouth, sucking hard and fast, before plunging my mouth down over his dick, deep throating him once more. Once more was all that was needed, and he came right down my throat with a tortured yell, his body shuddering under my hands.

Sitting back down on Edward's stomach, I twisted myself so that I was lying on top of him and kissed his neck until he had ridden out the orgasm. We stayed there for a bit, kissing softly, tenderly. His hands rested on the curve of my back, his calloused fingers grazing circles into my skin, whilst I rested my fingers on the back of his neck, tangled into his crazy hair.

Edward gradually walked his fingers down my spine until they touched my ass. He started to tickle it and I laughed against his mouth, until he reached down and started to play with the skin between my spread legs.

My breath caught as he separated my lips and, painfully cautiously, slid two fingers inside of me. Slowly he twisted and curled them, testing and feeling the wetness accumulate and my temperature rise.

We had stopped kissing, and he was staring at me with great intensity, those bewitching green eyes hypnotizing me.

I broke his spell by leaning in and kissing him fully, my wet mouth against his, my tongue searching his.

His other hand stayed on my back, and acted as a support as he flipped us over. I squealed from pleasure and surprise. This was another side to Edward, and I loved it. I loved it. He was fun and he was silly and hot and intense and I wanted to fuck him and laugh with him and then fuck more.

We hadn't spoken the whole time, after Edward's sex talk, but somehow that just didn't matter anymore. We were wholly comfortable in each other's presence. I didn't feel the need to fill the silence with small talk. What would I say – nice dick?

Funnily enough, it was Edward who broke the silence first, his face inches from mine as he hovered over my lips, his muscled forearms beside my head.

He looked at me with reproach, his gorgeous, red, red lips pursed slightly before he spoke gingerly, "are you ready, Bella?"

Did he think that I was a virgin? Wow. WOW. That's embarrassing.

Frankly, I was too horny to react – I just wanted his cock in me.

"Take me, Edward," I whispered, bowing my head so that our foreheads touched.

He kissed me once, hard, and then thrust his hips forward, moving that perfect dick into me.

Two guttural moans filled the air - he felt exquisite. A searing heat filled me to the very core, his dick was hot and hard and pulsing already. I squeezed my pelvic floors a little to see how he would react.

Edward threw his head back and the cords of his neck stuck out at the pressure.

He stilled for a minute, pulled out and then thrust back in again, starting a rhythm.

His dick was exquisite, and with each fevered movement another wave of pleasure and heat swelled over my body. A familiar tightness began to form in my stomach, right in my very core, and I hugged Edward closer to me, pushing him deeper, wrapping my legs around his narrow waist, telling him to go faster, inciting him to fuck me long and hard. Edward's head turned and he bit the side of my neck.

The shock made me come long and hard. My whole body tensed in one glorious moment of pain and pleasure. My climax forced my gritted teeth open and I released a strangled, guttural moan. I felt myself clenching around Edward's dick and my nails scraped across his back bringing him to orgasm.

Edward coming was amazing. His groan was tortured and yet saturated with sheer relief. He threw his neck back, exposing his neck with that succulent Adam's apple. The sinews of his back clenched and moved like another creature under his skin.

We were sweaty and Edward was heavy and I had jizz between my legs and my hair was a mess and I was spent, but I didn't care. I was still trying to come to grips with what had just happened – Edward had declared his love for me and then we had fucked.

I tangled my hands into his hair and sighed, kissing the top of his head.

His fingers stroked my sides and I giggled as his light touch tickled me.

"I guess you found out how men's minds work," Edward propped his chin between my boobs, shaking his head so that my breasts wobbled a lot.

I played with his hair and laughed at his ridiculous statement.

"Yeah, I guess I did… I wasn't that surprised, though," I frowned slightly.

Edward asked what I meant.

"Well, we had sex – men's minds are all about sex and women's bodies," I said, pushing Edward's slightly greasy hair up into a Mohawk.

"Bella, you really don't understand do you? Sure, I have sex on my mind, but those images are all with you. You are the one in my fantasies. The sex will act as an accompianment to what I hope will be a beautiful relationship. It's taken me much too long to realize that we work."

And then I understood what he was saying – men's thoughts were sexual and they were raw, but that was to help them form bonds. Man was lead by his dick, and his dick was lead by his heart.

Edward carried on, unaware of my epiphany.

"I'm not going to say we'll be together forever, but I will say that I will fight for us to be together for as long as possible. I realized how obtusely stupid I've been. I thought that it was possible for us to be friends, but it's not. My emotional and mental attachment to you is too strong and it's just amplified by the fact that you have a smokin' hot body. I love that body and I love you, as a person, even more."

Then it happened – all of that snark and the sarcastic, cynical façade I maintained around Edward fell around me.

And I burst into tears.

The words that I attempted to say were unintelligible through my sobs, but I felt so vulnerable, so complete at that moment that I didn't know what to say.

So I spoke the one sentence that was crystal clear in my mind:

"I love you and yes, you did answer my question."


End file.
